So word on the street is that chivalry is dead. Kaput. It's decapitated and placed it's long sought after head on a steak. Ask anyone who hasn't fully experienced romance to give you this answer. For those are the ones to fully accept romance is no longer. Chivalry is not what makes up all of romance by any means. To doubt any aspect of romance is to question its integrity in its entirety. Blah blah blah. Finally, ladies and gentleman, welcome to the romance show. It's just about time that this here blog writer spill out his heart and desires and such. Excuse the lack of punctuation. I thought you wanted romance, not a grammar lesson. Now where was I?
Oh yes...romance. This is the holy grail of happiness in some human's world. We aspire for all of our relationships to live up to the hype that we have built up over our existence. Yet, those of us who are down on our luck and find ourselves rejecting any potential for a resurgence of romance have lost sight of this glorious aspiration. It'd be a hell of a mistake to bring romance back am I right? We might find ourselves capable of feelings again. We will soul search to a time where we felt whole and unbroken. Naturally we would take that stroll down memory lane and compare it to modern day. Of course we expect these two to carry the same weight. Lord Jesus from up above we are so misguided in our troubled ways. Why do I accuse the loveless of this label? Because they are the ones who need hope the most. And who better to catapult advice your way than someone who is in search for hope himself. Prepare for realizations and fulfillment, for it's about to get bumpy.
It's an incredible mistake to romanticize the romantics. We give them too much credit. Hell half of the material they come up with "on their own" is just a unoriginal reproduction of some movie or overhyped love novel they have surrendered themselves to. Yeah I'm talking to you. Sit down. Listen. Don't speak. Please in that order. This is truly a credible source to believe, and no I promise that's not the whiskey talking.
People(loveless) give the romantics too much glory. They were like us at one point. All downtrodden in their deepest despairs, until...knock knock....serendipity is at the door she says hello. Your despairs are thrown out the six story window and in waltz your brand new designer feelings and adorations for a lovely woman/man. These loveless people have forgotten what truly gives romance it's value that so many crave.
The value of romance isn't measured by what we see others do, but what we find ourselves immensely capable of achieving diversely and repetitiously. This is true. I believe it therefore I consider it to be true. I'm going on this rant because I used to believe so much in the wonders of romance. I was that guy who wasn't afraid to admit that he loved romantic comedies and cheesy MTV shows. I truly believed I was capable of such feelings and potential, therefore it was true.I had a passionate, loving relationship with a wonderful woman. That was great, but I didn't have a love of myself. Long story short, I'm better now. I have a mustache that helps me balance my body as a cat's tail maintains balance of a cat, respectively speaking of course.
With all the focus on romance, we usually direct towards one aspect of life. That, of course, being relationships and significant others. Huge mistake. Everything can be romantic. Whether it's an elderly man reading their love story to his Alzheimer's ridden wife, or the James Gandolfini-Patricia Arquette beat down scene in True Romance, there is romance everywhere. The true romantics are those that see this cosmic mixture of purity and passion in thoughts, acts, or beliefs and so forth. This a another mistake. If you're romantic with one girl, odds are you'll have to be romantic with future love interests as they will inquire about former flames and things you two did together. Tough shit. If you want love, you have to give it.
Romance is pure. Romance is passion. Romance is serendipitous. Romance is natural. Romance is appreciated. Romance is adored. Romance is romance. That's the real conclusion here. Romance is in the eye of the beholder. For two people to happily coexist with each other in a loving relationship, they don't necessarily have to have the same methods of romance, but they do have to have the same desire to want romance. It makes one think that's for sure. One person's romance could be another's sad excuse to stay in and cheaply avoid spending time with their lover. So make the mistake of romancing a possible romancee. Don't settle for minimal potential romance. If you're gonna fuck up romance, you might as well fuck up while attempting to romance young padawon.
So whenever you feel cynicy, or hungover from trying with failed reciprocation, take a look around. Observe true testaments of romance. You'll know it when you see it. Then when you've found that prime example of what you believe is a true expression of love, you'll form your own. Then every single romantic movie or song will seem incomparable to your ignited inferno of romance. True life always wins, and when it doesn't there's always whiskey. Good whiskey only. Bad whiskey makes you feel like a cheap whore on Valentines Day.
Love on young lovers. Love on I tell you. It's worth it. You know, if you wanna be happy and stuff.
SN: I should mention that a majority of this post was written under the influence during my Hemingway/Fitzgerald phase. Make what you want out of it. I love it. I'm biased, but incredibly right.
Cheers mes amours,
Rev out
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Mistake #19: Creating the Content, or Being Content with Creation
"Benjamin. Benjamin are you listening? Good. I only have one word for you. Plastics. The future is in plastics." -Mr. McGuire, The Graduate 1967
This famous line resonated through young wanderers' minds after seeing this timeless film. However, it should read like this: "Content. The future is in content."
You can follow along with my advice or not. Your choice. Go ahead and fail. I won't blame you. Who am I to be giving out advice to intelligent people through a blog sharing application, and be deemed worthy of it at the same time? That's because I am worthy. I am human. I know people, and I know how they think. Maybe not all of what they think, but I can easily guess based off of a simple observation. Anyways, don't create content. It'd be a horrendous mistake. God forbid people might actually like what you create, and all hell breaks loose because you then you must create more from the depths of your creative soul. You do all of this just to have to create more. The cycle continues. You're screwed. You know why you're screwed? Because you like it.
There's two paths to travel here. You can be a creator or someone who is already content with creation. Not to be confused with any form of religious creation, of course. You could easily be content. No harm there, you just don't feel like change is necessary. It's because the connotation that change carries is mostly viewed as negative. Just so happens that negative people are the ones who view it that way. People don't realize that change is inevitable, consistent, and most of all positive. I'm a little biased, but does anyone actually read this anyways? There's a universal thought out there that if life remained as great as it was when you were your happiest then you'd be happy. That's understandable, but stupid. Come on. You can't always be suspended in a moment of pure euphoria. It's a drug that one can overdose as quickly as you experience it. By god that crash is a hell of a scenario. Don't go to hell, it's hot there.
Change must occur so we don't become stagnant. Stagnancy leads monotony. Monotony leads to predictability. Predictability leads to affairs. You don't want to catch your spouse tangled up in the sheets with another that is obviously less successful and attractive than you in your mind. Then you'll probably be infuriated enough to commit a crime of passion. Crimes of passion take you to prison. Don't go to prison. It sucks. Hey, you could always brush up your skills at license plate making. Could look good on a resume.
Now that you know the repercussions of not allowing change to flow in your life, let's shift the focus back to the original point of discussion. Content. Create the content. It's the future. Compare the spread of information of modern day-2013 to a time so long ago lived in-1960s, the golden age of advertising. The 1960's was a bustling time for advertisers. The successful ones are still thriving today, or they went down in whirlwind of greed, drugs, and atrocious accounting. The non-successful ones-well no one talks about them, because they don't. Those guys had the perfect methods. They new how to target people, which people to target, and when to target them. That ideology hasn't changed. Advertisers, companies, relatives, movie stars, and politicians have all applied that ideology and focused it in content creation and *spreadability.
There are a multitude of reasons why content creation, currently, is so spreadable. With the advent of social media, digital video production, and less expensive consumer-grade technology, people can spread their information, pictures, videos, thoughts, links, or even payments in the mouse click of an eye. Anyways, I'm not delving into a discussion of technology and evolution of social media. The point of this prolonged multi-paragraph statement is to prove a point. Creating content is creating a sense of content with change.
Yes that last line was a little profound. Sue me. Wait you can't. Freedom of speech. Boom. This state of convenience with creating content is perfectly suitable to change. No matter the technology involved, the people you interact with, or the medium you choose to utilize, it all falls under the umbrella of change. One should create content, not to please others as a primary goal, but to brand yourself as who you really are. You're able to efficiently and creatively promote yourself over so many mediums. The reason could be for job purposes, staying in touch with family, or even catching the eye of that special someone. So what this all summarizes is to create yourself. Don't create yourself to fit some status quo. Create yourself so you are able to fulfill a state of content with change. You'll change over time. You'll be a different person a year from now, just as you were a year ago.
So go on. Create. Build. Destroy. Recycle. Innovate. Imagine. Construct. Knock Down. Re-construct. Renovate. Refurbish. Re-imagine. Dream. Create. Actually this is horrible idea. I don't know why I occupied so much space with my words, when I just realized this whole belief is ridiculous. People shouldn't be happy, promising, or revolutionary. They should be in jail. Shelled away from *positivity and creativity. They should be holed up in caves away from the light awaiting things to happen for themselves. That's the life I knew it.
*Some words included in this post are made up. I'm not sorry. I'm proud.
Wander on young people. Northern skies are awaiting.
Ciao,
Rev. Out
This famous line resonated through young wanderers' minds after seeing this timeless film. However, it should read like this: "Content. The future is in content."
You can follow along with my advice or not. Your choice. Go ahead and fail. I won't blame you. Who am I to be giving out advice to intelligent people through a blog sharing application, and be deemed worthy of it at the same time? That's because I am worthy. I am human. I know people, and I know how they think. Maybe not all of what they think, but I can easily guess based off of a simple observation. Anyways, don't create content. It'd be a horrendous mistake. God forbid people might actually like what you create, and all hell breaks loose because you then you must create more from the depths of your creative soul. You do all of this just to have to create more. The cycle continues. You're screwed. You know why you're screwed? Because you like it.
There's two paths to travel here. You can be a creator or someone who is already content with creation. Not to be confused with any form of religious creation, of course. You could easily be content. No harm there, you just don't feel like change is necessary. It's because the connotation that change carries is mostly viewed as negative. Just so happens that negative people are the ones who view it that way. People don't realize that change is inevitable, consistent, and most of all positive. I'm a little biased, but does anyone actually read this anyways? There's a universal thought out there that if life remained as great as it was when you were your happiest then you'd be happy. That's understandable, but stupid. Come on. You can't always be suspended in a moment of pure euphoria. It's a drug that one can overdose as quickly as you experience it. By god that crash is a hell of a scenario. Don't go to hell, it's hot there.
Change must occur so we don't become stagnant. Stagnancy leads monotony. Monotony leads to predictability. Predictability leads to affairs. You don't want to catch your spouse tangled up in the sheets with another that is obviously less successful and attractive than you in your mind. Then you'll probably be infuriated enough to commit a crime of passion. Crimes of passion take you to prison. Don't go to prison. It sucks. Hey, you could always brush up your skills at license plate making. Could look good on a resume.
Now that you know the repercussions of not allowing change to flow in your life, let's shift the focus back to the original point of discussion. Content. Create the content. It's the future. Compare the spread of information of modern day-2013 to a time so long ago lived in-1960s, the golden age of advertising. The 1960's was a bustling time for advertisers. The successful ones are still thriving today, or they went down in whirlwind of greed, drugs, and atrocious accounting. The non-successful ones-well no one talks about them, because they don't. Those guys had the perfect methods. They new how to target people, which people to target, and when to target them. That ideology hasn't changed. Advertisers, companies, relatives, movie stars, and politicians have all applied that ideology and focused it in content creation and *spreadability.
There are a multitude of reasons why content creation, currently, is so spreadable. With the advent of social media, digital video production, and less expensive consumer-grade technology, people can spread their information, pictures, videos, thoughts, links, or even payments in the mouse click of an eye. Anyways, I'm not delving into a discussion of technology and evolution of social media. The point of this prolonged multi-paragraph statement is to prove a point. Creating content is creating a sense of content with change.
Yes that last line was a little profound. Sue me. Wait you can't. Freedom of speech. Boom. This state of convenience with creating content is perfectly suitable to change. No matter the technology involved, the people you interact with, or the medium you choose to utilize, it all falls under the umbrella of change. One should create content, not to please others as a primary goal, but to brand yourself as who you really are. You're able to efficiently and creatively promote yourself over so many mediums. The reason could be for job purposes, staying in touch with family, or even catching the eye of that special someone. So what this all summarizes is to create yourself. Don't create yourself to fit some status quo. Create yourself so you are able to fulfill a state of content with change. You'll change over time. You'll be a different person a year from now, just as you were a year ago.
So go on. Create. Build. Destroy. Recycle. Innovate. Imagine. Construct. Knock Down. Re-construct. Renovate. Refurbish. Re-imagine. Dream. Create. Actually this is horrible idea. I don't know why I occupied so much space with my words, when I just realized this whole belief is ridiculous. People shouldn't be happy, promising, or revolutionary. They should be in jail. Shelled away from *positivity and creativity. They should be holed up in caves away from the light awaiting things to happen for themselves. That's the life I knew it.
*Some words included in this post are made up. I'm not sorry. I'm proud.
Wander on young people. Northern skies are awaiting.
Ciao,
Rev. Out
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Mistake #18: Finding a Job and Actually Contributing to Society
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
-Thomas Jefferson
-Thomas Jefferson
This might appear confusing to you, you know with the the title of finding a job and whatnot. No I will not venture off into a discussion on tips on how to apply for jobs, what to wear to an interview, and what not to do. Honestly, I could care less about that. You need help? Google it. There's an abundance of professionals who are more qualified than a soon-to-be-grad on the art of securing a job throughout the interview process. However, I will attempt and execute a discussion on actually working up the nerve to search for a job. Remember, though it's a mistake. Forgive me if it seemed that I was diverting the attention of the blog away from this system. It's a downright horrible idea to find a job. If you do that then you're contributing to society. You're working against everything that teenage angst-filled you lived for. Yet, you find yourself actually searching for one of these yaaabs. Some people would pat you on the back for this. I'm just gonna stare at you until it makes you feel weird.
Anyways, the finding a job part. It's a mistake because it's acceptance that you've succumbed to the real world method of operating. You get to pay bills, child support, mortgages, and even better student loans! You'll get worked and worked to the point of exhaustion. For what you may ask? So you can eat, dress, or drive what you like or want? That wreaks of narcissism and insecurity up the wazoo. Don't forget you to decorate your apartment however you like. You can throw in whatever IKEA inspired arrangement your puny heart desires. Now you're happy right? Oh wait you have to go to work tomorrow. Gotta turn in early.
Goodbye to the days of where it's considered socially acceptable to walk around campus or your minimum wage job still drunk from the night before. Goodbye to the days that you go to work only 4 or 5 days a week with a day or two break in between. Yeah it was good while it lasted. Now you have a routine. You get paid a good deal more(hopefully). Oh yep you have to go to bed early again. Work in the am. Gotta ass kiss the new boss in hopes he won't fire my newly graduated ass just as I started. Worst mistake of your life.
Okay tangent time. The aforementioned advice of life in the "real world" is exaggerated to an extent, but also true in other respects. Now that I've highlighted the mistakes, let's focus how to actually get to a place where you can make those mistakes. In the job search process that occurs months before you graduate, you think to yourself, "Where would I be happy?" or "Is my degree actually going to help me in life and my field?" or my favorite one, "I wonder if mom and dad could get me a job?". Then reality hits and you assess your qualifications and search for the best job that can actually benefit from you being there instead of just crunching numbers like you're in a white-collar sweatshop. The first step is actually picturing yourself doing the work when looking at a job title description.
When you see yourself in this arena of a job you have to see you actually enjoying your work. Work is only one aspect of it, however. You have to picture yourself away from work. Actually picture yourself in your downtime. Are you enjoying this new city you're in? Are you enjoying the same city you're in? These are questions that if not answered honestly and logically, that could lead to an actual mistake. Then it's open season on ass-kissing, because you'll find yourself in a very unpleasant living and working environment.
You may think that it's a mistake to take advice from such an inexperienced kid in terms of thinking and acting in a real world mindset. My advice for you questioning my advice: Shut up and take it. I'm immersing myself into the cut-throat real world in less than a trimester, or 90 days or so. I graduate at the end of this summer term, and then I start my quest to Philadelphia, PA with a brand new fellowship. I'll have an intelligent, but pale future legal drug dealer. Some people prefer to be all PC about it and call her a Pharmacist, but come on, she's not fulling anybody. She is a friend, a best one at that. I hope that with the lack of sun that sets up camp in Florida all year long, she may actually be safe from sunburns. Knowing her luck she'll just blend in with the snow and I'll make a snowwoman out of her. She'll thank me later.
Anyhow, I have been procrastinating this process intentionally for weeks now. I was determined at first, and still am. There came a point when I was overwhelmed with fear, and fell paralyzed to any sort of productivity that I saw possible. Now I've already been ranting on this tangent for a while now. I won't stop, but I also won't begin a new tangent of a quest discussing fears,feelings, and tears(kidding). With this sense of paralysis, I wouldn't allow myself the ability to make a mistake. It's not a mistake to move to PA, but I thought it'd be a mistake to leave my umbrella I have here in my home state. After some quality conversations and self-discovering of what I actually want, I have finally mustered up the ability to face my fears and job hunt. A great way to start is picturing myself in a city filled with so much culture, freedom, and history that I almost had to changed my underpants from the excitement I got from it. I was able to picture myself in an environment conducive to my passion of writing, producing, and directing movies. Coffee never hurts either.
With all that being said, the first mistake you can easily make here is not making mistakes. The second is accepting you'll make mistakes. The third, is turning those mistakes into gold, by that I mean learning experiences. Fourth, is owning up to your right to freedom. The constitution preaches it. So why not embrace it? You have the freedom to make mistakes. You have the freedom to be free. You have the freedom to pick up and move from a life that you've always known to a life that you've always wanted. Make of it want you want. That's all that counts in the end.
So you're making a mistake if you're finding a job to contribute to society. Fuck that. Apologies for my language, not really. You should find a job that contributes to your society. Corny, yet profound I know. It's about time all of us on the brink of big life choices and mistakes, finally decide to do what's best for us. America.
I think we could all use a dose of Philadelphia Freedom.
I may be a reverend, but this was not meant as preachy in any fashion whatsoever. If you thought so..jump off a bridge, it'll still be preachy. I don't want you to die, I just want to you to get tangled in your bungee cord and get a nose bleed is all.
My sentiments to all ye hopeful and freedom seekers.
Rev Out.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Mistake #17: Whiskey, Whiskey, and...Yes did I mention Whiskey?
“We frequently hear of people dying from too much drinking . . . that this happens is a matter of record. But the blame almost always is placed on whiskey. Why this should be I never could understand. You can die from drinking too much of anything. . . .” - W.C. Fields
Cheers to the great man who said these wise words that lay before you. No, no I speak not of my own writing that you're about to encompass upon a journey for, but I'm referring more specifically to the words regarding the oh so comforting beverage of a gentleman's whiskey. This is a drink that many many before me have indulged in. Squandered lives and money on. They've woken up next to unknown strangers of women and men as a result of the copious consumption of the drinking crusades from the preceding evening. This is a beverage that has influenced great great minds. Oh they were such greatly troubled minds. Only they were trying to mend a broken heart with an unstable elixir. It's the most temporary of elixirs. It blocks thoughts, but enhances the deepest passions the heart holds within. Inhibitions are lowered. Fun times are had. Raw profound novels rise out of the ashes of a hearts demise...Alright alright you're welcome. This is one of the truest things I have come to discover in my young life. Whiskey does a heart good. Whiskey treats the mind like a friend. Whiskey treats the body like the backstabbing friend who promised to hold your heart and mold your mind. Whiskey is the greatest and worst mistake one can make. Have at it!
Now referring back to the quote that commenced this adventurous post. For all of the hell that the non-indulgers rain on those of us who appreciate our vice for the good it does to us: "You can die from drinking too much of anything." This quote applies to life in more ways than one. Now now don't think I'm going on some sort of collegiate, self-endowed rant. I'm just stressing a point. Quite a great one at that.
The point at focus here is that use everything in moderation. Moderation is how we measure things. Think of it as an intangibly tangible tool to effectively measure happiness. We determine what we like and don't like by how much we participate in certain activities. Say if I were to eat cake. Cake obviously makes me happy. It makes everyone happy, well I mean unless you're a terrorist. In that case, fuck what you stand for. Anywho, cake. Ahh yes, well cake is typically enjoyed on special occasions, i.e. birthdays for example. It's such a treat to savor that taste that the special day brings you. The best part of said special cake you may ask? The leftover cake for days to come. You jump for immense joy as you set your sights on it as breakfast for the next morning. Don't worry you're not being judged. I'll take a mean jab at homemade chocolate cake any day of the week. If you partake in that cake at any chance you get then, slowly it begins to lose its appeal to you. Cake is no longer special to you. You begin to imagine a time when cake was so very special. It gets to a point where it's not the cake you miss, but the special occasions, and the people you share them with. Therefore, special memories become synonymous with cake. Math done. Huzzah!
That's moderation for you. It applies to food, sex, friends, work, alone time, candles, pets, life, and most importantly...whiskey. This will be a reoccurring thought and principle of life as I continue existing. As much as I discussed moderation and firmly believe in it, nothing can replace my love of whiskey. Don't get me wrong I have priorities and aspirations aside from whiskey. Those, of course include: my love for film, women, family, academics, reading, sports, intellect, coffee, ambition, and of course whiskey. It has played such a vital role in some of my literary idols. Introduce, Hemingway and Fitzgerald. The duo who I long to meet in whatever afterlife awaits me. They lived life with so much adventure and poise. Risk and reward. Tragedy and turmoil. Best of all, they were real men who could express exactly what they were feeling without even an ounce of remorse. Honesty is the key. It may be the key to hurt feelings and sobbing, but who cares? At least there is no need for clarification of the unknown. I raise my glass to you gentlemen.
This is my pledge. To have and to hold as my vice when I see necessary, in heartbreak and happiness, sickness and health, for better or worse, to consume in the unholiest of matrimonies, I thee toast to celebrate sadness and happiness with you. As you will always be there. I will not rely on you to substitute for a woman or family, but by god I will enjoy every last ounce of you for whatever purpose you serve my life at that convenient moment, that I do so choose to let your sweet,burning nectar rest upon my lips as you make your way down my eager throat as my empty liver awaits your arrival.
With this pledge in writing I am so pleased to raise a toast to all you readers, writers, philosophers, lost souls, drinkers and drunkards, dreamers and schemers, robbers and cowards, dancers and thespians, lovers and haters. May you all enjoy whatever you moderate yourself to indulge in in this lovely life of ours.
Drink life responsibly. When in doubt, call a driver or in a better case a sober friend with a bottle of Walker or Daniels to spare.
Dream on. Drink on. Live on.
Peace and Blessins,
Rev out
Cheers to the great man who said these wise words that lay before you. No, no I speak not of my own writing that you're about to encompass upon a journey for, but I'm referring more specifically to the words regarding the oh so comforting beverage of a gentleman's whiskey. This is a drink that many many before me have indulged in. Squandered lives and money on. They've woken up next to unknown strangers of women and men as a result of the copious consumption of the drinking crusades from the preceding evening. This is a beverage that has influenced great great minds. Oh they were such greatly troubled minds. Only they were trying to mend a broken heart with an unstable elixir. It's the most temporary of elixirs. It blocks thoughts, but enhances the deepest passions the heart holds within. Inhibitions are lowered. Fun times are had. Raw profound novels rise out of the ashes of a hearts demise...Alright alright you're welcome. This is one of the truest things I have come to discover in my young life. Whiskey does a heart good. Whiskey treats the mind like a friend. Whiskey treats the body like the backstabbing friend who promised to hold your heart and mold your mind. Whiskey is the greatest and worst mistake one can make. Have at it!
Now referring back to the quote that commenced this adventurous post. For all of the hell that the non-indulgers rain on those of us who appreciate our vice for the good it does to us: "You can die from drinking too much of anything." This quote applies to life in more ways than one. Now now don't think I'm going on some sort of collegiate, self-endowed rant. I'm just stressing a point. Quite a great one at that.
The point at focus here is that use everything in moderation. Moderation is how we measure things. Think of it as an intangibly tangible tool to effectively measure happiness. We determine what we like and don't like by how much we participate in certain activities. Say if I were to eat cake. Cake obviously makes me happy. It makes everyone happy, well I mean unless you're a terrorist. In that case, fuck what you stand for. Anywho, cake. Ahh yes, well cake is typically enjoyed on special occasions, i.e. birthdays for example. It's such a treat to savor that taste that the special day brings you. The best part of said special cake you may ask? The leftover cake for days to come. You jump for immense joy as you set your sights on it as breakfast for the next morning. Don't worry you're not being judged. I'll take a mean jab at homemade chocolate cake any day of the week. If you partake in that cake at any chance you get then, slowly it begins to lose its appeal to you. Cake is no longer special to you. You begin to imagine a time when cake was so very special. It gets to a point where it's not the cake you miss, but the special occasions, and the people you share them with. Therefore, special memories become synonymous with cake. Math done. Huzzah!
That's moderation for you. It applies to food, sex, friends, work, alone time, candles, pets, life, and most importantly...whiskey. This will be a reoccurring thought and principle of life as I continue existing. As much as I discussed moderation and firmly believe in it, nothing can replace my love of whiskey. Don't get me wrong I have priorities and aspirations aside from whiskey. Those, of course include: my love for film, women, family, academics, reading, sports, intellect, coffee, ambition, and of course whiskey. It has played such a vital role in some of my literary idols. Introduce, Hemingway and Fitzgerald. The duo who I long to meet in whatever afterlife awaits me. They lived life with so much adventure and poise. Risk and reward. Tragedy and turmoil. Best of all, they were real men who could express exactly what they were feeling without even an ounce of remorse. Honesty is the key. It may be the key to hurt feelings and sobbing, but who cares? At least there is no need for clarification of the unknown. I raise my glass to you gentlemen.
This is my pledge. To have and to hold as my vice when I see necessary, in heartbreak and happiness, sickness and health, for better or worse, to consume in the unholiest of matrimonies, I thee toast to celebrate sadness and happiness with you. As you will always be there. I will not rely on you to substitute for a woman or family, but by god I will enjoy every last ounce of you for whatever purpose you serve my life at that convenient moment, that I do so choose to let your sweet,burning nectar rest upon my lips as you make your way down my eager throat as my empty liver awaits your arrival.
With this pledge in writing I am so pleased to raise a toast to all you readers, writers, philosophers, lost souls, drinkers and drunkards, dreamers and schemers, robbers and cowards, dancers and thespians, lovers and haters. May you all enjoy whatever you moderate yourself to indulge in in this lovely life of ours.
Drink life responsibly. When in doubt, call a driver or in a better case a sober friend with a bottle of Walker or Daniels to spare.
Dream on. Drink on. Live on.
Peace and Blessins,
Rev out
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Mistake #16: Cynicism as a Guilty Pleasure
Picture this: It's a hot day. I mean really hot. I mean the rays of the sun were predestined to be pressure cooking the asphalt just as I think it's a great idea to throw on a sweater for the day. Soon to follow is a nice tall(BIG) glass of cool water. So cool that if it had on a pair shades I'd deem it Fonzi the Refreshed. Why yes I did just personify my thirst quenching savior. Why are you giving me that look? What is that look you may ask? The one that has disrupted my salivating glands' newest obsession. They aren't that happy with you right now. The one that irks me so much that my skin crawls off my body in search of a more stable/less disastrous environment. People are less likely to feel my wrath there. Rant ensued.
This look that has perturbed me is one that throws off my entire mood. It's a look described as one of uncertainty that I most often mistake for one of snootiness or scoffing. It's a look that I will blend with nails and force feed it back to you on the rocks with a bendy straw. So yes this scoffing uncertain look of snoot drives me wild. Why you may ask? Why?? Because that glass of water is half-empty. Half fucking empty and it's only evaporating; dissipating at the expense of my overall happiness. Weren't expecting that now were you? Don't worry I'm not ranting about being negative. That shit happens all the time, but I usually overcome it instantly. I compare this glass of water to that look you just gave me. No matter what reason you give me, as in "I'm too tired, I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry." Sorry doesn't cut it. I've already made a million judgments about you. Not to come to the conclusion that I think I'm better than you. No, that's immature and unnecessary. These judgments are one's of always thinking you'll be "sorry". Bump that. I'll just think you're a sorry person. Forever. Even when pigs fly. You're a pig. There, who's mature now.
I'm not sorry for the rambling. Trust me. I've just accepted that I'm angry sometimes. People make me angry. Therefore, the true cynic in me peeks out ready to play. This post may bring down the mood of the entire blog so far. I've made this statement before, but hell I just want to vent. Be prepared for a hellstorm of thoughts. Commence.
If you come at me with hopes or dreams or even a hint of an aspiration I'll hold that thought, toss it around, squeeze it like putty, and then mold it into what I think is realistic. You won't get a genuine congratulatory hug from me. I'll pat your back. Say "good job champ", when I really mean "Great job not sucking and contributing to society without killing someone". You're welcome. I've twisted and wrung out quite a bit of friendships with this thought process. They're still my friends, but they won't jump at an opportunity to hang out with me. I've deemed them unworthy of my time. Of course, the vice-versa rears its ugly forehead. I thought over the past few months that it's just me being a realist. Staying sane and not letting my head escape me. It's not floating away on my watch. Let's just say dreams don't stay as often as I'd like them to.
I've diverted from a life of dreaming and arrived at one filled with grays and scowling lips. Just entering college I had all the dreams in the world. I dreamed of so many possibilities. They were infinite. I had no plan prepared. I didn't care. Any time someone tried to pop my hot air dream balloon I just dreamed and inflated to rise my hopes and aspirations even higher. Now I have a "plan". This means I'm conducting research to follow a path I'm passionate about that I'm paying for with a handful of hopes, a smidge of maybes, and quite a dapple of "I don't knows". I'm scared as hell, but it's what I want and need. It's not every time in life that you come across a time when these occur at the same time. I'm trekking across half the U.S. in order to start over, while my friends stay behind still trying to figure things out. We're 22-23 year old kids. We're allowed to. Some could say I'm running to a new life of excitement. Some could say I'm running away from the mundane and routine. The others(ME) could say I'm running away from loves lost. For a guy who got the crash course in the area of intimacy and lack thereof entering college, I'm emotionally exhausted. Friends ask why I don't date more. My response is true."Ain't nobody got time for that".
The thing is I don't have time to get swallowed by another in a committed agreement to be nice and loving to one another. When I fall I fall hard. If I spend all of my time falling, how do I ever expect to rise up like phoenix? This is where my cynicism comes into play. These women are beautiful, brainy, busty, and did I say beautiful? Damn near more beautiful than sunrises. I automatically write them off not being good enough for me. The realization that I've come to is that I'm not even good for myself. I'm not in detest of me. I wouldn't date me at the moment. I have nothing figured out. I'm Ben from The Graduate. People keep asking me what I'm doing. "HELLO!! NO FUCKING CLUE!" I just don't want to know for once and be happy. Yes yes I know I need to figure out some sort of strategy for my life. Not there yet. I'm still learning the rules. Pardon me if I haven't mastered the art of living. Kudos to those who have. I condone your experiences and ideas. You have my appreciation. Snaps!
Usually I end these posts with some sort of self-realization. Not this time. This is mistake number 16 on my way to success. Consider this one on repeat. I'm tired. Not just from being up till 2:45am. I'm tired from being tired of my situation. Time to shake and bake on some potential moves.
You can't catch me now. I found my dream cloud.
Rev Out.
This look that has perturbed me is one that throws off my entire mood. It's a look described as one of uncertainty that I most often mistake for one of snootiness or scoffing. It's a look that I will blend with nails and force feed it back to you on the rocks with a bendy straw. So yes this scoffing uncertain look of snoot drives me wild. Why you may ask? Why?? Because that glass of water is half-empty. Half fucking empty and it's only evaporating; dissipating at the expense of my overall happiness. Weren't expecting that now were you? Don't worry I'm not ranting about being negative. That shit happens all the time, but I usually overcome it instantly. I compare this glass of water to that look you just gave me. No matter what reason you give me, as in "I'm too tired, I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry." Sorry doesn't cut it. I've already made a million judgments about you. Not to come to the conclusion that I think I'm better than you. No, that's immature and unnecessary. These judgments are one's of always thinking you'll be "sorry". Bump that. I'll just think you're a sorry person. Forever. Even when pigs fly. You're a pig. There, who's mature now.
I'm not sorry for the rambling. Trust me. I've just accepted that I'm angry sometimes. People make me angry. Therefore, the true cynic in me peeks out ready to play. This post may bring down the mood of the entire blog so far. I've made this statement before, but hell I just want to vent. Be prepared for a hellstorm of thoughts. Commence.
If you come at me with hopes or dreams or even a hint of an aspiration I'll hold that thought, toss it around, squeeze it like putty, and then mold it into what I think is realistic. You won't get a genuine congratulatory hug from me. I'll pat your back. Say "good job champ", when I really mean "Great job not sucking and contributing to society without killing someone". You're welcome. I've twisted and wrung out quite a bit of friendships with this thought process. They're still my friends, but they won't jump at an opportunity to hang out with me. I've deemed them unworthy of my time. Of course, the vice-versa rears its ugly forehead. I thought over the past few months that it's just me being a realist. Staying sane and not letting my head escape me. It's not floating away on my watch. Let's just say dreams don't stay as often as I'd like them to.
I've diverted from a life of dreaming and arrived at one filled with grays and scowling lips. Just entering college I had all the dreams in the world. I dreamed of so many possibilities. They were infinite. I had no plan prepared. I didn't care. Any time someone tried to pop my hot air dream balloon I just dreamed and inflated to rise my hopes and aspirations even higher. Now I have a "plan". This means I'm conducting research to follow a path I'm passionate about that I'm paying for with a handful of hopes, a smidge of maybes, and quite a dapple of "I don't knows". I'm scared as hell, but it's what I want and need. It's not every time in life that you come across a time when these occur at the same time. I'm trekking across half the U.S. in order to start over, while my friends stay behind still trying to figure things out. We're 22-23 year old kids. We're allowed to. Some could say I'm running to a new life of excitement. Some could say I'm running away from the mundane and routine. The others(ME) could say I'm running away from loves lost. For a guy who got the crash course in the area of intimacy and lack thereof entering college, I'm emotionally exhausted. Friends ask why I don't date more. My response is true."Ain't nobody got time for that".
The thing is I don't have time to get swallowed by another in a committed agreement to be nice and loving to one another. When I fall I fall hard. If I spend all of my time falling, how do I ever expect to rise up like phoenix? This is where my cynicism comes into play. These women are beautiful, brainy, busty, and did I say beautiful? Damn near more beautiful than sunrises. I automatically write them off not being good enough for me. The realization that I've come to is that I'm not even good for myself. I'm not in detest of me. I wouldn't date me at the moment. I have nothing figured out. I'm Ben from The Graduate. People keep asking me what I'm doing. "HELLO!! NO FUCKING CLUE!" I just don't want to know for once and be happy. Yes yes I know I need to figure out some sort of strategy for my life. Not there yet. I'm still learning the rules. Pardon me if I haven't mastered the art of living. Kudos to those who have. I condone your experiences and ideas. You have my appreciation. Snaps!
Usually I end these posts with some sort of self-realization. Not this time. This is mistake number 16 on my way to success. Consider this one on repeat. I'm tired. Not just from being up till 2:45am. I'm tired from being tired of my situation. Time to shake and bake on some potential moves.
You can't catch me now. I found my dream cloud.
Rev Out.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Mistake #15: The Finale
“Television characters live inside our minds as though they're actual people. In fact, we know more about them than we do about most people in our physical lives.”
― Neal Pollack
Warning! Corny line approaching,,,Lights, Camera, Action! Yes the blog-master is back with some more mind-blowing wisdom on what most of you will find useless...until you grow the bloody hell up and deem it worthy you wandering ne'er-do-wells!
FADE IN
INT. BEDROOM-EVENING
It's a dark(duh), stormless night and you're all alone. So alone you decide to watch your favorite re-run of your favorite TV show of all time: The Finale. No not the season finale. Not the summer finale either. You've taken it upon yourself to watch the most watched episode of all time. Now you begin to tear-up as you witness all of your favorite characters, who you've come to love and adore, venture in new directions in their lives as they leave you behind. Yes they did this to you. They held your heart in their hands and clinched together their fists with the sheerest of optimism and grace. You see they let you down easy. They reasoned with you that is was what was best for them so that they could be happy and progress. FUCK THAT. They never had your feelings in mind. I mean you practically live with these people day in and day out. You hang out with them at the bar or coffee shop. They even bring you to work with them, even when they aren't obligated to participate in some company-held holiday to showcase the glory of their jobs to impress you. Yeah that's right they bring you in on the bad days, he rainy days, the days when the air conditioner is on all types of drugs. They even bring you in on the day when all hell breaks loose and the company is bankrupt. This is where we hold them close and shower them with warmth. Then they just leave. They leave with what they think is a loving, well-delivered good-bye. It's not loving. It's the dagger in the heart. The mushroom cloud of loneliness.
Mistake. You, the audience, made the mistake of letting yourself love another. Yeah that's right. I'm catapulting this blame square between your eyes. You chose to tune in to see what kind of petty drama occurs every week on a freaking creek or in a generic high school filled with dysfunctional youths at the peak of awkwardness. You opened your heart, and in Jim and Pam came with their quirky, lovable relationship and set up a home. They built that home with intentions to stay. What do you get in return? They give you a relationship you fawn after with the utmost jealousy and optimism of having. Seems a little unfair to me right? Selfish bastards. I love you.
A lot of us don't realize that we are capable of love until we are hurt by a truly genuine, passionate relationship...experienced by our most loved TV stars. We also realize we are capable of hurt as well. Immense loads of it. Ouch. Ouchiest of ouches Ross and Rachel. It wasn't a real break. I hate you so much. Your relationship means everything to me.
It's a tragic mistake we commit season after season. We become attached. We model ourselves after these characters in hopes people will like us better. They don't like you better. Unless they love the show as well. Then they love you most. We live so vicariously through these characters that we forget our own reality some times. We begin to forget that Central Perk doesn't exist. Or that middle rate paper companies stand a fighting chance against the processed timber vendor juggernauts. We remove ourselves from reality. My humble opinion: remove yourself to wherever you damn well please. The world we live in now is going down in flames as we speak. You might as well throw yourself into Wisconsin and hang out in the basement with the best 360 crew around. You can't beat it.
Plus, in this world you may never get a boss like Michael Scott, or a friend like Barney, or have a completely OCD neurotic detective with phobias up the wazoo solving your cases. You'd be lost. Completely. You'd be a miserable Amish person. Don't care if it offends them. It'd take them light-years to make it here by horse buggy. Prehistory never survives!
I bet what all the "normal" people aren't expecting out you is the art of surprise. They don't think you'll flabbergast them with a witty line or joke that'll keep them laughing until their spleens shatter. They think you've submersed yourself so much into a different reality that you can't comprehend daily routines of the "normies". Hint hint normies: TV is based off of what we have and lack in the real world. Open your brains. Close your minds. Please for dead Jesus's sake, don't ever watch Preacher's Wives. You'll thank me now and save yourself the disappointment for humanity. I already have plenty from daily encounters.
This world sucks. It sucks something awful's awful. The worst of awful. Yet, through some small peeping hole in the clouds, shines the brilliance of TV writers as the ol' cathode ray tube fires up for another round of 7th Heaven drama and heartache. They know what we like. You know why? They happen to be people with wants and angst geared towards reality. They deserve a Nobel Peace Prize. If people didn't plop in front of their media-streaming device, they would be out murdering people, duh.
CUT TO:
We conclude here. We conclude with a thought of ho much we hate when series end, but love them for the effect they have bestowed upon our lives. By effect, I of course mean purpose. They give us something to strive for. Not to copy, may I add. But to unwillingly aspire to have a completely unpredictable, heartbreaking, passionate affair that catalyzes us to come alive. Remember you determine when the finale happens. There's always room for a new pilot. Hell you might even find your own Jim or Pam. Just please please I reiterate to you: don't be Toby. I fucking hate Toby.
If TV doesn't work out for you sad, sad, saps...READ MORE BOOKS. I hear Fitzgerald writes good words.
FADE OUT
FIN
Yours truly,
Blog Master Flex
― Neal Pollack
Warning! Corny line approaching,,,Lights, Camera, Action! Yes the blog-master is back with some more mind-blowing wisdom on what most of you will find useless...until you grow the bloody hell up and deem it worthy you wandering ne'er-do-wells!
FADE IN
INT. BEDROOM-EVENING
It's a dark(duh), stormless night and you're all alone. So alone you decide to watch your favorite re-run of your favorite TV show of all time: The Finale. No not the season finale. Not the summer finale either. You've taken it upon yourself to watch the most watched episode of all time. Now you begin to tear-up as you witness all of your favorite characters, who you've come to love and adore, venture in new directions in their lives as they leave you behind. Yes they did this to you. They held your heart in their hands and clinched together their fists with the sheerest of optimism and grace. You see they let you down easy. They reasoned with you that is was what was best for them so that they could be happy and progress. FUCK THAT. They never had your feelings in mind. I mean you practically live with these people day in and day out. You hang out with them at the bar or coffee shop. They even bring you to work with them, even when they aren't obligated to participate in some company-held holiday to showcase the glory of their jobs to impress you. Yeah that's right they bring you in on the bad days, he rainy days, the days when the air conditioner is on all types of drugs. They even bring you in on the day when all hell breaks loose and the company is bankrupt. This is where we hold them close and shower them with warmth. Then they just leave. They leave with what they think is a loving, well-delivered good-bye. It's not loving. It's the dagger in the heart. The mushroom cloud of loneliness.
Mistake. You, the audience, made the mistake of letting yourself love another. Yeah that's right. I'm catapulting this blame square between your eyes. You chose to tune in to see what kind of petty drama occurs every week on a freaking creek or in a generic high school filled with dysfunctional youths at the peak of awkwardness. You opened your heart, and in Jim and Pam came with their quirky, lovable relationship and set up a home. They built that home with intentions to stay. What do you get in return? They give you a relationship you fawn after with the utmost jealousy and optimism of having. Seems a little unfair to me right? Selfish bastards. I love you.
A lot of us don't realize that we are capable of love until we are hurt by a truly genuine, passionate relationship...experienced by our most loved TV stars. We also realize we are capable of hurt as well. Immense loads of it. Ouch. Ouchiest of ouches Ross and Rachel. It wasn't a real break. I hate you so much. Your relationship means everything to me.
It's a tragic mistake we commit season after season. We become attached. We model ourselves after these characters in hopes people will like us better. They don't like you better. Unless they love the show as well. Then they love you most. We live so vicariously through these characters that we forget our own reality some times. We begin to forget that Central Perk doesn't exist. Or that middle rate paper companies stand a fighting chance against the processed timber vendor juggernauts. We remove ourselves from reality. My humble opinion: remove yourself to wherever you damn well please. The world we live in now is going down in flames as we speak. You might as well throw yourself into Wisconsin and hang out in the basement with the best 360 crew around. You can't beat it.
Plus, in this world you may never get a boss like Michael Scott, or a friend like Barney, or have a completely OCD neurotic detective with phobias up the wazoo solving your cases. You'd be lost. Completely. You'd be a miserable Amish person. Don't care if it offends them. It'd take them light-years to make it here by horse buggy. Prehistory never survives!
I bet what all the "normal" people aren't expecting out you is the art of surprise. They don't think you'll flabbergast them with a witty line or joke that'll keep them laughing until their spleens shatter. They think you've submersed yourself so much into a different reality that you can't comprehend daily routines of the "normies". Hint hint normies: TV is based off of what we have and lack in the real world. Open your brains. Close your minds. Please for dead Jesus's sake, don't ever watch Preacher's Wives. You'll thank me now and save yourself the disappointment for humanity. I already have plenty from daily encounters.
This world sucks. It sucks something awful's awful. The worst of awful. Yet, through some small peeping hole in the clouds, shines the brilliance of TV writers as the ol' cathode ray tube fires up for another round of 7th Heaven drama and heartache. They know what we like. You know why? They happen to be people with wants and angst geared towards reality. They deserve a Nobel Peace Prize. If people didn't plop in front of their media-streaming device, they would be out murdering people, duh.
CUT TO:
We conclude here. We conclude with a thought of ho much we hate when series end, but love them for the effect they have bestowed upon our lives. By effect, I of course mean purpose. They give us something to strive for. Not to copy, may I add. But to unwillingly aspire to have a completely unpredictable, heartbreaking, passionate affair that catalyzes us to come alive. Remember you determine when the finale happens. There's always room for a new pilot. Hell you might even find your own Jim or Pam. Just please please I reiterate to you: don't be Toby. I fucking hate Toby.
If TV doesn't work out for you sad, sad, saps...READ MORE BOOKS. I hear Fitzgerald writes good words.
FADE OUT
FIN
Yours truly,
Blog Master Flex
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Mistake #14: Weddings
"One should always be in love; that is the reason one should never marry."
-Oscar Wilde
It's a room packed full of blood and future relatives. All gathering for that moment. That moment when a man and women outfitted in fanciful formal attire are locked in a trance with each other. They wait patiently to spend the rest of their lives together. It only take two words. Two words to seal a milestone for a hopeful romance. End result: she said yes. Suckers.
You see with all of the glamour and tears to follow people think this is a great occasion demanding a celebration of family proportions. They are delusionally mislead. These events require you to be around your distant relatives. So distant that they only show up for weddings and funerals. The nerve they have. Of course you can't forget about all of the tension building up. Holy Jesus on the cross is that an understatement. Everyone is just waiting for that elephant in the room to be brought up in order to surface all of the suppressed anger and resentment we all have for one another. Joyous.
One also can't forget the god-awful amounts of planning that go into this. By planning I mean women take the control and mean pick things up and put them down. A disclaimer was bestowed upon them that their lives were at stake. Not kidding. Those are the most gruesome of gruesomest of deaths. <---True Story Bro.
These weddings are just a celebration of two people who want to spend the rest of their lives together. All this money spent to just say "I do". I do what? I do promise to agree to a pre-nup? Kids? Mortgage? Sounds like I do is a prison sentence.
Okay okay I'm done with the charade now. Pardon the language. I fuckin love weddings. All that jibberish I mentioned before is just my inner cynic. Who knows? I might be shedding that calloused skin I've known for too long. Wrong tangent here. Weddings are the best. Free food, free booze, free dancing, and free hearts. You get to watch people take the plunge and profess their most passionate feelings for each other. You can't beat that courage. They deserve a Medal of Honor for that. Word.
I actually love seeing all those random relatives. Awkward conversations are always best at weddings. Boom easy topic of discussion. Did I mention the free booze by the way? Don't worry I kept my cool, but I enjoyed the hell out of a free bar.
As jaded as I am from past flames, I still hope for a beautiful dame that I honestly won't deserve. But let the future take it's course. I want to deserve that moment.
Oscar Wilde. As much as I fawn over your inspirational writing, you're are one mistaken individual. Go on roll in your grave. Reverend don't care. Love didn't treat you right. You can be in love and not marry, true story. Marriage is the age old tradition of the final level of commitment before an unforgettable journey.
So all of you dreamers and lovers out there: join your wants and needs and settle for greatness and passion. Settle for the life you want instead of the one people think you want. Love on, Live on, Dream on.
Peace and blessins,
-Rev.
-Oscar Wilde
It's a room packed full of blood and future relatives. All gathering for that moment. That moment when a man and women outfitted in fanciful formal attire are locked in a trance with each other. They wait patiently to spend the rest of their lives together. It only take two words. Two words to seal a milestone for a hopeful romance. End result: she said yes. Suckers.
You see with all of the glamour and tears to follow people think this is a great occasion demanding a celebration of family proportions. They are delusionally mislead. These events require you to be around your distant relatives. So distant that they only show up for weddings and funerals. The nerve they have. Of course you can't forget about all of the tension building up. Holy Jesus on the cross is that an understatement. Everyone is just waiting for that elephant in the room to be brought up in order to surface all of the suppressed anger and resentment we all have for one another. Joyous.
One also can't forget the god-awful amounts of planning that go into this. By planning I mean women take the control and mean pick things up and put them down. A disclaimer was bestowed upon them that their lives were at stake. Not kidding. Those are the most gruesome of gruesomest of deaths. <---True Story Bro.
These weddings are just a celebration of two people who want to spend the rest of their lives together. All this money spent to just say "I do". I do what? I do promise to agree to a pre-nup? Kids? Mortgage? Sounds like I do is a prison sentence.
Okay okay I'm done with the charade now. Pardon the language. I fuckin love weddings. All that jibberish I mentioned before is just my inner cynic. Who knows? I might be shedding that calloused skin I've known for too long. Wrong tangent here. Weddings are the best. Free food, free booze, free dancing, and free hearts. You get to watch people take the plunge and profess their most passionate feelings for each other. You can't beat that courage. They deserve a Medal of Honor for that. Word.
I actually love seeing all those random relatives. Awkward conversations are always best at weddings. Boom easy topic of discussion. Did I mention the free booze by the way? Don't worry I kept my cool, but I enjoyed the hell out of a free bar.
As jaded as I am from past flames, I still hope for a beautiful dame that I honestly won't deserve. But let the future take it's course. I want to deserve that moment.
Oscar Wilde. As much as I fawn over your inspirational writing, you're are one mistaken individual. Go on roll in your grave. Reverend don't care. Love didn't treat you right. You can be in love and not marry, true story. Marriage is the age old tradition of the final level of commitment before an unforgettable journey.
So all of you dreamers and lovers out there: join your wants and needs and settle for greatness and passion. Settle for the life you want instead of the one people think you want. Love on, Live on, Dream on.
Peace and blessins,
-Rev.
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